Cheap Eats 2014: Sandwiches

Some people have a problem with
Philadelphia. How anyone could dislike the city that gave us Questlove
and the Allen Iverson “practice” speech is beyond me. Maybe it has to do
with booing Santa Claus. Or maybe it’s the cheesesteak. While no one
can deny the genius of slopping fistfuls of sliced beef, cheese and
onions onto a bun and calling it a sandwich, a picture of Chip Kelly
with cheesesteak juice dribbling down his chin is a pretty good symbol
of our country’s obesity problem.

Consider the Italian Market a
small attempt at rehabilitating the image of Philadelphia cuisine. Even
if the name conceals its origins, the cart—conjoined to Belmont
Station—doesn’t hide its aggressive Philly-ness: the Phillie Phanatic is
spray-painted right onto its doors. But instead of the city’s chief
culinary cliché, transplanted Philadelphians Erin Callahan and Andrew
Vidulich serve up what they refer to as the true street food of South
Philly. This includes the Federal ($8), an Italian sub Vidulich says is a
staple of his hometown. Densely packed with shredded roast pork and
provolone, the meat is offset by broccoli rabe, giving the sandwich a
distinctly earthy flavor. Or there’s the Passyunk ($8), a similarly
weighty eggplant sub with fresh housemade pesto and mozzarella. Both
sandwiches are served on thick Italian bread from Southeast Portland’s
Alessio Baking Co., which, unlike a typical cheesesteak, keeps them from
being disintegrated by grease.

The Italian Market should go a long way toward repairing
Philadelphia’s relationship with some of its local haters. Then again,
some folks will never let their rivalries go. It’s their loss. MATTHEW
SINGER.

Bunk

128 NE Russell St. and other locations, 328-2865, bunksandwiches.com. Lunch and dinner daily.

Bunk Bar Wonder is the most hidden member of what’s now a
Bunk sandwich dynasty. Below street level, the bar serves beer and
slushy margaritas amid the thumps of sound-check for the band upstairs.
But you won’t be distracted for long from the sandwiches. The menu
includes a monthly vegetarian special, but the most popular and notably
best item on their menu—available at every location—remains the Pork
Belly Cubano ($10), a mouthwatering toasted-to-perfection sandwich
loaded with pork belly, ham, melted cheese and pickles. They can open
spots on Alberta Street or the moon; that sandwich still tastes new
every time you eat it. SAVANNAH WASSERMAN.

If you’re not from the Midwest, you might wonder why
anyone would keep a sandwich shop open until 3 am. But drunken college
kids without much to do require massive sandwiches to soak up the
booze—and Devil’s Dill delivers. The prize of Devil’s nine-item menu is
the five-spice pulled pork ($9.50), served with sesame slaw and a
chili-garlic barbecue sauce that’s sweet with a mild bite. The pork is
soft and smoky, perfectly complemented by the slaw on top. The sesame
flavor was lost in the slaw, but served as a textural counterbalance.
This is the kind of sandwich you eat while walking backward lest you
want a drippy red mess all over your trousers. PETE COTTELL.

Grant’s Philly Cheesesteak

15350 NE Sandy Blvd., 252-8012. Lunch and dinner Monday-Friday.

Sure, places like Shut Up and Eat have shown the mettle of
a high-end cheesesteak, but as our friends in Philly would say: Fack
that. The best Broad Street bomb comes from way the fuck out on
Northeast Sandy, where Grant’s fills its tiny shack with the sweet aroma
of grilled steak and onions with a side of brotherly love and, for good
measure, Tastykakes. Cheesesteaks come piled into an Amoroso bun, with
the option to go for a half-pound torpedo ($11) or a quarter-pound gut
bomb ($6.25). You can load it with Tillamook cheese or stick with the
Whiz, and sub steak for chicken or vegan steak…but only if you want to
ruin your life. AP KRYZA.

Tech-guy turned bread-geek, Ken Forkish, saved his best
for first. Ten years in, stellar loaves still issue from the bakery
space that dominates a nondescript Northwest Portland storefront. In the
tightly packed seating area out front, the same breads form the
foundation for about a dozen sandwiches described on a big blackboard
overhanging cold cases filled and topped with a theme park of pastries,
each silently shrieking “eat me!” Grab a banh mi ($6.50) on Ken’s
signature baguette or classic (meaning ridiculously rich) croque
monsieur ($9). Finish with a cannele or chocolate croissant, and
fergodsakes, try to be patient with the tourists. MICHAEL C. ZUSMAN.

Funny thing about Lardo: Despite the shop’s fatback name
and its consistently solid sourcing, the best parts of their sandwiches
are rarely the meat. Indeed, one of the better ’wiches on the menu
sports none at all. The rapini ($9) is an oily-spicy salad of hearty
greens, with the deep notes of the rapini leavened by the sweet vinegars
of a red-pepper agrodolce; there’s a similar play in the tuna melt
($10), choc-a-bloc with Mama Lil’s peppers, tapenade and shaved fennel.
But still, have you had the pork-belly gyro? It’s fat on fat on fat,
like big ol’ elephants in love, and every bit as emotional. MATTHEW KORFHAGE.

Like Dwell magazine, this Pearl cafe seeks the
finer things in simplicity. The lamb meatloaf sandwich ($9) is like a
patty melt with its pinky up: warm and hearty, with the surprise snap of
green beans. Alongside fresh takes on classics, inspirations from
global cuisine include duck confit banh mi ($9) and a smashed chickpea
sandwich ($7.25). The Lovejoy salad ($13.50) has three meats and an egg,
while the complex roasted-beet salad ($7.75) features frisee,
grapefruit and chevre. They’ve also just started a dinner-to-go ($18)
for three to four people; call for the daily selection. But if you
prefer, you could just get a breakfast sandwich for dinner—they’re
available all day. LYLA ROWEN.

Meat Cheese Bread flies consistently under the radar, and
the name is perhaps to blame: It bespeaks a European austerity of good
sourcing and little imagination, streetside Italian shops of crisp
baguette and dry salami. That’s all well and good, but it’s not what’s
going on here. Meat Cheese Bread’s sandwiches are fun. Their BLB ($9)
cuts the freezer-trucked weak link in the classic BLT in favor of the
delightfully sweet crispness of a winter beet, while their Cuban pulled
pork ($9) is textured with apple-soaked jicama slaw. That’s not even
counting the overlooked breakfast menu that includes a sandwich with
bread pudding, sausage, cheddar and fennel ($7.50) that would make your
English grandmother cry because she’s no longer needed. MATTHEW KORFHAGE.

Everyone knows Shut Up & Eat makes a mean cheesesteak:
The Broad Street Bomber has a well-deserved reputation as one of the
city’s best messes of top round steak, fried onions, cheddar, provolone
and peppers. But this little Creston-Kenilworth diner is perhaps even
more impressive at breakfast. Beginning at 9 am every day, housemade
biscuits and English muffins are topped with runny fried eggs plus
roasted butternut squash and housemade maple sausage or caramelized
onions, arugula, asiago, provolone and grilled mortadella. All that and
hash browns with zucchini, house-squashed apple sauce or the best potato
chips in town. Potato chips for breakfast? Withhold judgement until
you’ve tried them. MARTI CIZMAR.

I was fuzzy on the details of the best sandwich I’d eaten
in the last year. I know it had runny fried egg on it because my jeans
were stained with yellow drips. I recall fluffy ciabatta bread,
something roasty and pungent cheese. I remember the intense feeling of
warmth. And I remember where I got it: the Woodsman Market. Luckily, the
detail-crazed personnel running this ever-so-precious grocery nook
between the original Stumptown Coffee and the upscale Woodsman Tavern
remember everything about their short, tight menu. The special from
January 4? There were two eggs, that cheese was fontina and the roasty
things were red peppers, the bread was Roman Candle ciabatta and they
don’t even make the sandwich anymore but, hey, they’ll put in a word.
I’ll be back either way—after picking up a box of Shout wipes. MARTIN CIZMAR.